


Catching More Than Fish

by guilty_pleasures_abound



Series: Trope Prompts [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Male Character, POV Second Person, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-08 16:18:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18626791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guilty_pleasures_abound/pseuds/guilty_pleasures_abound
Summary: “I think… you know by now, how much I like spending time with you, don’t you?”[Male reader]





	Catching More Than Fish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nour386](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nour386/gifts).



> Request: friends to lovers, Stan/male reader

You met him fishing, out on Lake Gravity Falls. It was kind of an accident, your fishing lines getting tangled, but with neither of you terribly keen on cutting them if you could avoid it, you moved your boats closer together in an attempt to untangle them.  


He had been so grumpy about it at first, giving you the stink eye and bitching that you were just trying to steal the fish, but offering him a couple beers from your cooler and a few worms from your bucket seemed to soothe his temper.

You introduced yourself, and he did the same, seemingly pleased when you recognized him as the owner of the Mystery Shack. He was even more pleased when you complimented the neat, tight knot on his fishing hook, launching him into an enthusiastic mini lecture about the importance of using the right kind of knots.

It was nice, actually, the two of you keeping your boats near even after your lines were detangled, talking fishing, talking about the town, talking work. He was a lot funnier than you thought he would be, and a lot more clever. By the time your stomach was growling for dinner and the sun was just beginning to set, the two of you had decided to meet up again soon, agreeing on drinks at the town’s only bar.

It became routine, fishing together, going out for a drink, catching whatever game or boxing match or race was on television at the bar.

You went up to the Mystery Shack, teasing Stan about a “friends and family” discount, but ultimately being happy to pay full price to watch the man work. He could certainly razzle dazzle, looking sharp and slick in his suit and fez, unnecessary eye-patch adding an edge of mystery to the persona. Which was the point, you assumed.

You liked him. He was silver-tongued conman, to be sure, but you learned just how much deeper he ran than that. Usually when he was a little bit drunk.

“Y’know,” he mumbled, his arm around your shoulder, your arm around his waist, the gray-haired man leaning on you for stability as the two of you walked in a slow stagger up the long road to the Mystery Shack. “It’s been a long damn time since I’ve trusted anybody not to stab me in the back while I was drunk. And I do mean literally stabbed, that’s a mistake I made in Vegas that you bet your ass I won’t repeat.”

Somehow it didn’t quite surprise you that Stan had gotten himself into a dicey situation like that in the past, but you just gave him a little grin and a squeeze of your arm around his waist where you were steadying him.

“I’m honored,” you said, a little surprised when he pulled up short, halting your progress so he could turn his head and look at you in the dim light of the moon.

“I mean it,” he said. “I trust you, kid. There’s not a lot of folks I can say that about.”

You were a little buzzed too, you had to admit, but even so you could tell that this was not a declaration to take lightly. He was being serious, and earnest, and admitting to such a thing was a vulnerability that he was trusting you to be gentle with.

“I’ve got your back, Stan,” you murmured, just as serious and earnest, reaching your free hand up to pat his where it was slung around your shoulders. “Always.”

He nodded once with a little grunt, the two of you moving again toward the Shack.

It surprised you, how the frequency of such moments increased after that, both sober and buzzed. Stan confiding in you his stresses of making ends meet at the Shack, how much he sometimes missed living in a beach town like the one he grew up in, how much it freaked him out, sometimes, being so isolated and alone at the Shack.

That last was shared on the eve of a big snowstorm, the two of you sharing a pot of coffee after helping him secure a tarp over the Mystery Shack’s sign in the hopes of preventing any letters getting knocked off in the oncoming driving winds.

It gave you pause, watching Stan watch the darkening clouds out the kitchen window, and it didn’t take much thought at all for the offer to come spilling out of your mouth: “Wanna come stay with me? Or… me stay here?”

He looked at you blankly for a moment, and you felt your face redden. That was a bit… forward, wasn’t it?

Thankfully, before you could take it back, he spoke, “You’d… want to do that? Risk getting snowed in here with me?”

You shrugged, trying to go for nonchalant. “Yeah, I mean… I’m here all the time anyway. So unless you think you’ll get tired of me…”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed, but hopeful, and tried just as hard to be nonchalant in his answer. “Yeah… I mean, no, I wouldn’t get tired of you, I meant yeah like… it’s be nice if you stayed. If you’re sure?”

“Positive,” you nodded.

A quick trip home to pack a bag, then you were back at the Mystery Shack, the first flakes of snow starting to fall.

And it _was_  nice. You played cards, you smoked cigars on the back porch, watching the snowfall in increasingly bigger flakes. Stan even pulled out a couple fish from the freezer, the last remaining evidence of your summer fishing trips, and fried them up for the both of you.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you found yourself offering around midnight, the two of you having retreated to the parlor in favor of it’s big fireplace, a hearty fire crackling away in the hearth. “I think… you know by now, how much I like spending time with you, don’t you?”

You leaned against his arm a little, the two of you sharing space on the room’s loveseat, nervous but quietly thrilled when he leaned back.

“I guessed as much,” he mumbled. “I think you’re here more than Soos.”

Your heart was racing, turning your head slightly to watch Stan’s strong profile in the soft yellow light. This was probably not a good idea, considering that if you fucked everything up, you were good and properly snowed in with this man.

“What I mean is—”

“I know what you mean, kid.”

Your heart jumped into your throat when he patted your knee, then left his hand there, strong fingers gripping the joint snuggly, his voice getting quieter, gruffer. “Me too.”

He kept his gaze on the fire, and it was hard to tell in the flickering light, but you could have swore there was a blush creeping up his cheeks. You knew there was one creeping up yours.

Still you slowly placed your hand over his, silently jubilant when he didn’t pull away.

“Good,” you said.

“Good,” he answered.

**Author's Note:**

> See prompts as they're posted on [my tumblr.](https://guilty-pleasures-abound.tumblr.com)


End file.
